Oldfield Birch

It is said there is an old field, where heavy mist shrouds everything in a thick, hazy gloom. Except, of course, for the birch.

The birch is old and, they say, the birch is mean.

Its wiry branches will whip in the wind and, if you get too close, will give you a good thrashing harsh enough to draw blood.

It is said that blood had long ago awakened the tree and that, having gotten a taste of it, the tree now hungers for more. They say the birch learned to call the wind, using it to whip its branches into a frenzy that will then flay those unsuspecting who passed by.

It is said the tree turned black in its core, and that no one ever dares to go near it—not even the mist. They say to be careful when out in the old field, and to run whenever the wind starts to stir.

Hi Sara – you’ve now put me off my Birch that I used to climb and be whipped around as the wind whistled round … I’ll look at birches more closely in future .. lovely telling of the story to make me weary and wary! … cheers Hilary

Hello Sara- remembering how awesome your A-To-Z was last year, I thought I’d mosey on over to see what it was like this time. It is, I observe, just as awesome! And creepy! Huzzah! I really liked this tiny, creepy, uneasy little piece.